


It's 2 a.m.

by SapphyreLily



Series: Seijou 4 Week 2016 [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Late Nights, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seijoh 4 Week Day 6 - Kissing In The Rain For Everyone To See</p><p>Inspiration is a little hard to come by, even late at night, so what's an artist and a writer to do?</p><p>(Take a walk, that's what.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's 2 a.m.

Matsukawa groans and throws down his pencil, the writing implement bouncing off his notebook and clattering on the table. Behind him, he can hear a similar groan, and the slam of a paintbrush against a palette.

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head back to eye Hanamaki’s back. “Art block?”

Hanamaki snorts and tosses a paper ball over his shoulder. It falls horrifically short of Matsukawa, making him to cackle with mirth. “Don’t you dare point it out. I can hear your writer’s block from over here.”

“Touché.” Matsukawa slumps in his chair, glaring at his notebook as if it is the source for his inability to produce a good plot. “Hey, Takahiro?”

“What?” Hanamaki is instantly on guard. Matsukawa didn’t usually use the entirety of his first name unless he had an idea. (Usually a terribly bad idea.)

“Do you want to go for a walk? For inspiration,” he adds, almost uselessly. Hanamaki turns around to throw the paper ball this time, to make sure it connects with his head.

“Issei, you _do_ realise it is 2 a.m., and that we should be sleeping?”

Matsukawa shrugs. “Artists and writers never sleep early. It’s practically part of the job description. You know, the part that says _‘Inspiration will never strike unless you stay up till the wee hours of the morning.’_ ”

“Ah, right, that part. How could I have forgotten?” Hanamaki deadpans. But a look back at his blank canvas has him conceding defeat. “Maybe a walk would be some good. Do you think Tooru and Hajime are still awake?”

“Hajime would make us go to sleep instead of coming with us.” Hanamaki has to admit that that is true. “Tooru might be awake though.”

“Right, then.” Hanamaki stands and stretches, then walks out of their poorly dubbed ‘Inspiration Room’. “Let’s find Tooru and go for that walk.”

Outside the room, they find that the television is still on, and there are two bodies positioned in front of it. They stop walking in shock, heads cocked comically. Oikawa notices them first, sticking a hand out of the nest of blankets to wave at them. “Care to join us? It’s Monsters Inc.”

“A non-alien movie? How shocking.” Matsukawa comments, moving to the back of the couch to peer at the screen. Hanamaki joins him and pokes at Iwaizumi.

“Hajime, was this your idea?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “He actually wanted to watch a non-alien movie for once.”

Oikawa makes a noise of affront. “Hey, I like things other than aliens!”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

“All of you.” Oikawa blinks owlishly, as if it should have been obvious.

Everyone groans, but their tones are fond. “You’re so _cheesy_ this late at night.”

“But you still love me,” Oikawa insists, his face lighting up. “Now come watch with us!”

Matsukawa blinks. “Ah, yes, about that. Takahiro and I were going to take a walk for inspiration. Do you want to come?”

Oikawa frowns. “But it’s 2 a.m.”

“All the better. Nobody on the streets to worry about. We can get some ice cream, look at the stars, walk in the park–”

“Okay, okay. You had me at ‘stars’.” Oikawa turns to Iwaizumi and tugs on his arm. “Are you coming?”

Iwaizumi looks at each of them in turn, notes their puppy eyes, and sighs. “We have work tomorrow, so let’s not stay out too late, okay?”

“It’s already 2 a.m. There’s no difference if we stay up a little longer.” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and shoos them to the front door, making sure he grabs his wallet, keys and phone, because one of them was bound to forget one, or all of those items.

x.x.x.x.x

They end up in a small park near their apartment, following the path lit by streetlights. It is quiet except for the sound of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of the trees. Matsukawa’s head is tilted back as he walks, eyes tracing the faint stars that aren’t blurred out by light pollution.

They are pretty, he muses, eyes sliding from one spot of light to another, completely missing any constellations that might have been visible. Beside him, Hanamaki is doing the same, except one of his hands is outstretched, as if he could dip into the colour of the sky and swipe it across his canvas.

“Do you think,” he asks, “That the galaxy really is that much wider, and could contain more life out there? Not counting Tooru’s conspiracy theories.”

Matsukawa hums noncommittally. “Maybe? In a world as large as ours, if each star out there had its own galaxy system, and one out of a hundred thousand of those systems could support life, then maybe so.”

Hanamaki nods, then reaches for Matsukawa’s hand, lacing their fingers. “Do you think any of those alien lifeforms have ever reached Earth?”

“Maybe? We have so many weird animals and mutations these days, you wouldn’t even know which one was the original. For all we know, they live off of us interdependently.”

“I think that’s co-dependence.” Iwaizumi calls back to them. “Interdependence means you rely on it and it relies on you to survive.”

Oikawa perks up. “Hey, that’s an idea! You know that all human foetuses start off as female, right?”

“Uh, no?” Matsukawa and Hanamaki stare blankly at him. They are art, not science students. Oikawa huffs.

“Okay, never mind, but just listen! What if there were only females on Earth a long, long time ago, and when the aliens came visiting, they thought ‘Oh hey, this is a pretty alien, and there’s an ugly alien, and _wow_ , that’s a _really_ ugly alien, we should do something about it!’”

“Tooru? Where are you going with this?” Hanamaki asks, but Iwaizumi shushes him. He looks oddly curious about Oikawa’s theory, which is unusual.

“So then the aliens decide to affix themselves to some of the _really_ ugly females, and _tadah_ , you get males!”

It takes a while for that to sink in, before Hanamaki starts laughing wildly. “Oh my god, Tooru, are you suggesting that our _dicks_ started out as aliens?”

Even Iwaizumi is grinning at the thought, and Oikawa pouts at them. “What? It’s a thing that could happen! Human foetuses really do start out as androgynous, it’s only the X or Y chromosome that causes the gametes to descend or remain where they are. If they remain, the baby is female, and if they descend, the baby is male. And from there on, either the penis forms or it doesn’t, but it’s so weird, don’t you think? What if all humans were female before and only because of the aliens that males appeared, that this phenomenon happened and now it’s just become an evolutionary thing?”

Matsukawa is having trouble keeping a straight face, though the topic is spiralling into the start of an idea. “So in the beginning, humans had detachable dicks?”

Oikawa blushes, a funny shade under the streetlamps. “Well, I didn’t think of _that_ , but _what if_ , you know?”

Hanamaki is laughing so hard, Matsukawa is all that’s holding him upright. Iwaizumi doesn’t even look like he cares about the time of night anymore, he’s laughing and stopping, frowning to himself before his face cracks into a grin and starts the process all over again. Oikawa looks mildly offended and upset that they think it’s a dumb idea, but Matsukawa smiles at him.

“I could use that as a story idea. Thanks, Tooru.”

Oikawa beams. “Anytime! Aside from that though, what about dogs? I mean, they were wild animals and all, but the bear is a wild animal too, and no one has ever domesticated them. What if the aliens came and infected some wolves, and that’s the reason why they could be domesticated?”

Matsukawa fully intends on refuting him, because one conspiracy theory per night is more than enough, but then he feels something smack his cheek. He reaches up to touch it, a little suspicion growing in his mind, when another smack hits his hand.

He turns to Iwaizumi. “Was it supposed to rain tonight?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, then he blinks, as if a raindrop hit him in the eye.

(It probably did.)

“I think so?”

The sound of drops against the pavement is suddenly very obvious, and they look at each other in growing horror.

“Run!”

They stumble and trip as they race towards the park gate, the falling raindrops growing in size and speed. It’s pouring in earnest by the time they reach the gate, laughing hysterically at themselves for trying to outrun the weather.

“Let’s not run anymore, or else we’ll trip. I don’t want anyone getting injured.” Iwaizumi takes charge, pulling them back and forcing them to hold hands. He leads the way, dragging them along in a chain as they carefully navigate the wet streets back to their apartment.

From his spot at the back of the line, Hanamaki squints through the downpour, watching the shadows grow and fall as they pass under streetlamps, watching the spread of water across his boyfriends’ backs. How the rain distorts the light, giving each of them an ephemeral glow, outlining their figures with a gentle haze. The way their hair sticks to the back of their necks, plastered to the sides of their head. How Iwaizumi’s spikes droop and flatten, how Oikawa’s curls bend down with the weight of water, how Matsukawa’s hair stands even more on end, turned frizzier by the wet.

It’s an odd sight, the three drenched ducklings being dragged home by their mama duck, but there’s something in their joined hands that adds a touch of commitment and promise, that outlines an unbreakable bond.

Hanamaki itches for a brush and his watercolours, but more than anything, he wants to hug all of them close and paint them with the colour of his love and gratefulness.

He suddenly stops, yanking on Matsukawa’s hand when he turns back, brows raised. Pulling him down the scant 3.2 cm between them, he presses their lips together, melding the softness of their mouths in the best way he knows how.

Matsukawa makes a surprised sound but reciprocates happily, his hand coming up to cradle his neck and tilt his head for better access. The rain falling around them hasn’t lightened up in the least, and though Matsukawa’s face is blocking most of the droplets, he still breaks the kiss earlier than he would like to escape their sting.

He reaches for Oikawa, who is next in their procession, moulding their bodies together as he tastes the clean rain on his lips. Oikawa is less surprised and reacts better, tongue flicking out to trace his lower lip, licking off traces of rain in the corners of his mouth.

Iwaizumi looks equal parts amused and hungry when it’s his turn, crushing their mouths together with desperate force. It’s not a gentle kiss, but it’s not laced with lust either. It’s an overwhelming need for the other, to hold and to reassure himself that _yes, you are still here_.

Hanamaki pulls away and looks at each of them in turn, memorising the play of shadows, the way their hair and clothes stick to them, the loving expression in their eyes. He grins suddenly and apologises for stopping them, but _I have my inspiration now, thanks to all of you_.

There was no way they could blame him for making them more wet when he put it that way.

They stop too many times on the walk back home to press impromptu kisses on parts of each other, totally uncaring that they are completely soaked and cold. Their duckling line has fallen out of place completely, but no one – even Iwaizumi – is complaining.

They are all a little sneezy in the morning, but the memory of their failed 2 a.m. walk isn’t something that they would give up for anything.

(Even the complaints of some of their neighbours, who had apparently seen them at 3 a.m.)


End file.
